Doom, Boom, and the Baby

"It's alive."

"It's awake."

"It blinked."

"I saw."

Doom and Boom stared at the tiny bundle of cloth, trying to decide what course of action to take. As always, they were of two minds on the matter. This wouldn't be such a problem, except that their two minds shared one body. To take any action, they would need to agree. However, until a consensus could be reached, both would be stuck doing nothing but looking, listening, and—of course—talking.

The two-eyed bundle of cloth wiggled, startled awake by the loud, sudden conversation from the dragon, and began to cry.

"It's crying, Boom."

"I can hear that, Doom."

"How can we make it stop?"

"That's easy! We eat it!" Boom licked his chops, drooling at the prospect of a good meal. Their waffling had cost them many a morsel in the past—especially human morsels.

"We can't eat it, you monster!" Doom retched in disgust. "It's only a baby!"

"That's all the more reason to eat it, you imbecile."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, it can't fight, it can't bite, and it's oh so tender and tasty." A glob of drool plopped down to the leaves below as Boom considered another argument. "Humans eat all sorts of babies; baby cows, baby sheep, baby birds. They've even been known to eat a dragon egg every now and again. So the least we could do is return the favor."

"I won't eat a baby, Boom, and I won't let you eat one, either." Doom glared at his twin, angry at the mere suggestion of such a barbaric practice. "If we act like monsters, then we show the humans they're right about us."

The young human looked from one to the other as they argued, too confused and entertained to continue to cry. Even as Boom lunged his neck forward, jaws open wide and forked tongue seeking to taste its flesh, the babe seemed to understand that it was in no danger. Boom's tongue could only reach the wiggling, mud-encrusted toes of the child. It laughed as the ruby tips tickled its digits, sitting up on the forest floor near the hollow trunk where it had slept as the dicephalic dragon approached.

"What humans are we showing, Doom?" Boom made a show of peering out into the distance in all directions, swinging his head around like a scythe. Doom ducked as it passed by. "There are no other humans here."

It was true. There were no signs that the baby had family or friends nearby in the forest. In fact, as the little one slumbered wrapped in its filthy, leaf-covered blanket, Doom and Boom had been exploring the area while tracking a herd of deer. They had encountered precisely zero humans since crossing the river and entering the wood.

Doom stuck out his chin, posing for an audience of one. "A monstrous thing is still monstrous even if there are no witnesses."

Boom hissed in frustration and hunger. Not for the first time, he weighed the risks of partial decapitation and decided against it. His brother, the noble beast, fancied himself a knight. Doom would rather starve than betray his silly code of chivalry. That would be fine if it didn't mean that Boom would starve with him. But, alas, there would be no changing his mind. Doom was as stubborn as he was insufferable, and he loved humans more than any dragon should.

The only father that the brothers had ever known was a mad human wizard named Noom. It was he who was responsible for their predicament, as he merged two iron dragon eggs into one golden egg in a somewhat successful foray into alchemy. Eager to share his discovery with the world, Noom visited king after king. At each court, he tried to recreate his successful formula with more lumps of iron, only to fail and be chased out of the castle. Only later did he discover he had overlooked one crucial element. He did not realize the egg-shaped lumps of iron he scavenged from the forest were, in fact, eggs until his prized golden egg hatched in the middle of dinner one night.

After a long bout of screeching and swearing, followed by several rounds of drinks, Noom decided the two-headed dragon would make an excellent pet and guardian for his laboratory. Noom told the brothers wild, fantastical tales of heroic knights and evil dragons, not realizing that they understood his words. The first time that they spoke, poor Noom's heart gave out with shock. The debate about whether to eat or bury the body had been Doom and Boom's first argument, and it lasted for days. By the time Boom gave up and they dug Noom's grave in the garden, the corpse was too foul to eat, anyway.

"Fine," Boom conceded, shared stomach growling. "Let's find a different dinner then."

The brothers finally agreed and turned away from the baby in the blanket. Relieved that Doom had not insisted upon finding its parents or some such nonsense, Boom resigned himself to another hungry night. The double-headed dragon drudged toward the river in search of a meal, a place to lie down, or—preferably—both.

Too absorbed with sniping at each other and the neverending quest for food, they failed to notice the child following far behind and out of reach. Silent and thoughtful, Noom the Immortal tracked his greatest creation in hopes the strange beast could help him achieve the impossible once more.